


Reflections of Mirrored Wit

by NathanielCardeu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Feels, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 16:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10700676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NathanielCardeu/pseuds/NathanielCardeu
Summary: Have some brotherly advice… even if it’s unwanted.





	Reflections of Mirrored Wit

**Author's Note:**

> A very short piece that came to me one day, many years ago. It had to be written.
> 
> Usual disclaimer applies; none of the characters are mine etc.

With a tired sigh, George Weasley climbed the stairs of the Burrow. Reaching one of the upper landings he pushed open the door to his room. Downstairs he heard a faded snippet of laughter and conversation. _She_ was downstairs; he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to speak to her right now.

 

Stepping into the cool, semi-darkness of the room he crossed to his work bench and sat down. The mirror set in the back reflected the only lamp light in the room and, looking into the mirror, George saw Fred working on something at his own bench, behind the door.

 

“Hey Fred,” George said, quietly, his head sinking into his hands.

 

“Hi brother-mine,” said Fred jovially. Turning on his seat, Fred looked over at George, holding up an object in the lamp light. “So, this then… what do you think?”

 

George looked up, into the mirror and recognised the object. It was the yo-yo he had been working on, without success. The idea was to have an innocuous yo-yo that could also be used as… something. He had given up on getting it to do something interesting several times.

 

“I think that I haven’t been able to work all the bugs out of it,” he muttered, looking down at the desk again. He could still see his twin in the mirror out of the corner of his eye.

 

“You mean you haven’t been working on it at all,” said Fred with a smile, putting his feet up on the bench and leaning back. He fitted the yo-yo over his finger and gave it an experimental throw. It operated as all yo-yo’s should; it went down, then back up again. “Luckily,” said Fred breezily. “I know how to get it working.”

 

“You what?” George exclaimed, raising his head and watching Fred’s reflection closely. “I’ve been trying for days!”

 

“Ha! No, my good looking sibling,” Fred laughed. “You’ve been _moping_ for days. You’ve picked this up, maybe once in the last week!”

 

“Not true.”

 

“And then you only stared at it,” muttered Fred, disgustedly. “Not gonna get anything achieved like that. You know what you want it to do, really. You just need to focus more, and not look like a...”

 

George growled under his breath, a note of anger creeping into his voice. “I wasn’t moping. I was…

 

“Dejected?”

 

“No…”

 

“Depressed?”

 

“Fred…”

 

“Moody, maudlin and moping?”

 

“Fred, shut up. I was… considering.”

 

“Okay,” declared Fred, sitting up straight again and fixing his brother with a determined glare in the mirror. “Truth time, brother.”

 

George sighed. That was their own secret code to cut any form of patter and comedy and get to the point. They used it rarely and only ever with each other, in complete privacy. “Go on then, Fred. What’s the truth?”

 

Fred turned back to the bench, picking up his wand and working on yo-yo again. “You love her and you want to tell her, before she marries Ron.” His voice was firm but there was a note of sympathy.

 

George gazed down at his hands and kept quiet, unable to think of a denial that would be believable.

 

“Further more,” continued Fred. “You want her to leave Ron and confess deep and abiding love for you.”

 

George looked up, into the mirror, with a strained smile. “What’s wrong with that?”

 

Looking over his shoulder at George, Fred smiled sadly. “It’s not gonna happen, that’s what’s wrong with that.”

 

Feigning nonchalance, George leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. “Why? I’ve seen some of the looks she gives me.”

 

“In your head.”

 

“No, it’s not!”

 

“Yes it is, George. You are a friend to her, like Harry. A dear friend, indeed, but you have as much chance of dating Hermione Granger as I have of taking the thought of Neville Longbottom, as a Hogwarts professor, seriously!”

 

“What’s wrong with Longbottom?”

 

“What happened when you dated Lee Jordan’s sister for a while?”

 

George was caught out by the sudden shift, not expecting the question, but knowing where his brother was going. “What’s that got to do with…”

 

“I advised against it… Lee was well against it, unless you were serious. But you did it anyway,” Fred said, sounding a little annoyed.

 

“It was fun…” George said with a shrug.

 

“Yes, but then you broke up,” Fred muttered. “And you fell out with Lee over it too; you two didn’t speak for a long, loooong time.” Fred turned in his chair, tossing the yo-yo over his shoulder, onto the bench. Running a hand through his hair he sighed. “That’s why you don’t go out with your friend’s sister, George.”

 

“So?”

 

Fred banged his hand down on the back of his chair, the sound a sharp crack in the silence of the room. “How much worse will it be if you break up your brother’s wedding? And then run off with the bride?”

 

“Can I wait till they break up themselves?”

 

“No, George.”

 

“Why?” George said, a little petulantly.

 

“Because,” Fred said, patiently, “unless you are a complete shit, you don’t run off with your brother’s ex either!”

 

“What if…”

 

“Look,” Fred interrupted. “Hermione Granger has been off limits since her and Ron announced the wedding, if not before. It is _way_ past the point of them drifting apart, mutually happy. You might have been okay, then. Maybe. Even then it would have been strained.”

 

George still didn’t look directly at his brother, gesturing angrily at the mirror. “What about you then, Mr Hypocrite! You love her too.”

 

Fred nodded, sadly, toying with the yo-yo again. “I did, that’s true. And I’ll always treasure those feelings. But it’s not gonna happen. It’s ridiculous, oh brother of mine, to use that as an argument. I think we can safely say I’ve moved on.”

 

George gave a depressed moan and slumped back in his chair again. A particularly loud burst of laughter drifted up from those gathered outside. It wouldn’t be long before the ceremony started.

 

“How do I stop feeling like this, Fred?”

 

“You can’t, sibling dearest.” Fred smiled sympathetically at George, spinning the yo-yo on the desk, not looking at his brother.

 

“Never?”

 

“No, not really.”

 

“Then why go on?”

 

Fred gave a small laugh. “Because melodrama is overrated, George. When have we _ever_ been melodramatic? Over the top, maybe, but only to get a laugh. Besides, the shop needs constant monitoring. And, if that’s not enough, you need to fix this damn yo-yo! It’s not working.” Fred stood, bouncing the yo-yo on his palm. “That’s a couple of things to take your mind off it.”

 

“So I just give up on her?” George’s voice was small and sad.

 

Fred slowly walked towards his brother, his footsteps silent on the carpeted floor. George watched him in the mirror, seeing the play of emotions across his face.

 

Standing behind his brother’s chair, Fred smiled sadly. “You don’t give up George, you move on. Subtle difference. You’ll have those feelings forever, you’ll hold them in your heart and you will always have a special place for her there. But she can never be yours, unless Ron dies.”

 

“And I’m not about to start wishing family members dead,” George muttered.

 

“Exactly,” Fred declared, placing the yo-yo on George’s desk. “If it makes you feel any better, you do have options. Verity likes you, of that I’m sure. _She’d_ take your mind off Hermione. At least until it stops stinging so much.”

 

George laughed. “Yeah, it’s something about my tortured personality.”

 

“Torturous brother-dearest, torturous personality,” Fred said as he walked back to his desk. As he sat down, picking up the parts of another invention, there was a soft tap at the door.

 

George stood and walked over to the door, feeling a little better. It would still hurt for a while but he knew that he would heal. Eventually.

 

Opening the door he saw Ginny’s face smiling gently up at him. “Hey George, Mum’s calling us. The ceremony’s starting in a few and she wants us all in place.”

 

George exhaled heavily. “Ok, be down in a sec,” he muttered.

 

“You okay?” Ginny asked softly. “I… I heard you talking…”

 

“You listening at doors now, sis?” he asked, a little angrily.

 

“No,” she retorted. “I couldn’t make out what you were saying. I could just hear that you were talking, okay?”

 

He sighed. He seemed to be doing an awful lot of that today. “Sorry, Gin. I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just a little touchy.”

 

“It’s okay George,” Ginny said, touching his arm lightly. “Now, hurry up, before Mum snaps and we’re all in trouble.” With a small smile Ginny turned and headed downstairs.

 

Leaning against the door frame George reflected on his feelings for Hermione. He had known that he had loved her for a long time. But he knew, in his heart, that she could never be his. Not unless tragedy struck this family again and he prayed that that would never happen. He couldn’t handle losing another brother.

 

Pulling his wand from his pocket, George turned back to the room and extinguished the only lamp. He could still make out his desk, the shape of the mirror, hollow and empty in the darkness. The yo-yo sat on his bench where he had left it a few days earlier, untouched in all that time. For a while he just stared into the darkness of the empty room.

 

“Thanks, Fred,” George whispered, as he pulled the door closed. With another heavy sigh, he walked downstairs.


End file.
